Dear Mr Hatter
by Ophelia Feir
Summary: On the Eve of March 16th, A packet of letters were mysteriously found hidden away in a desk.They were written by Alice Liddell at the age 57 to a man she called Mr. Hatter.This Tale is about the Girl who found the Letters and discovered something curious.
1. Chapter 1

It started with a letter.

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_I have decided to write to you even though it has been over 40 years since we last met. I remember it so fondly when Charles showed me the mirror, it changed everything I suppose it should be said. Too bad I was so young to not understand your interest or his for that matter, being a child has been follies. _

_I feel ever so daft writing this to you for I am not aware of how to give you these letters. _

_The Looking Glass was taken away when Charles refused to see me, oh how he felt betrayed when I told him of you._

_I want to go back to your wonderful land to see the __Cheshire__ Cat and of course, lovely Mr. Rabbit. _

_You see, Mr. Hatter, I can only remind myself of them through my story. _

_How long ago it seems when Dodgson sat me down and told me his own story. _

_He had found a curious hole behind his home and had a feeling of it was of great importance. _

_Now, Father and Mother told me to be weary of gentlemen, but oh dear the look in his eye was something I shall never forget; Something of acceptance, worry, and passion. _

_That is what made me follow him that night. As my sister sat me down for our lesson before bed, I excused myself speaking myself ill, but merely followed Charles through the back door._

_It was nightfall when we arrived at the hole. _

_It was large enough for me to slip into that was certain, but when he was content with me understanding his curiosity, he tried to pull me away and take me home, but when my foot slipped suddenly against the mud… I fell and fell and after that… My age has rusted my memory so._

_ How I got back out of the hole I will not understand, but Charles did his best to pull me back. _

_He said he saw Wonderland too, can you imagine? Him, wandering looking for me such a silly thought. _

_Please, Mr. Hatter, excuse me for saying this, but I dare say should we meet again… tell me of our adventures. That is what I am content with._

_With your Affection, Alice_

With quivering fingers, I turned the rough piece of paper over looking for anymore writing.

Hell, I don't think I could say anything or barely think… Turning my head, I looked back into the hidden compartment in the Writing desk.

As calmly as I could, I folded the letter back into the drawer and stared at my computer screen.

The eBay item #8452342, labeled **19****th**** century writing desk CHEAP **was staring back at me.

It was had to be some sick joke or someones weird sense of humor, because it can't possibly be real.

With a sigh, I collapsed into my swivl chair and started to think.

Everyones heard Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. A silly tale of a young girl sent into the bizarre world of Wonderland…but it isn't true.

All created in the mind of Lewis Carol…or was it Charles Dodgson? Screw it, those letters seemed to real, but Its not even possible to think that maybe Wonderland is real.

Standing with a quick force, I looked back at the writing desk.

The polished dark wood seemed to gleam like it was grinning… Dammit, now I'm think of that silly Cat. S

tanding in the middle of my room, I gazed around and imagined in the darkness of my mind.

_**Is it possible Wonderland is real?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_{ Note of warning. The end is bit strange and a little gory nothing too bad and I will give amazing points to whoever gets the reference in the end. :D Thanks to everyone for the reviews, they truly help me become a better writer.}_

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_Time is slowly slipping. How I miss Wonderland where Time was possibly the last thing to imagine, but does time really matter here either? That is a thought only the Cheshire Puss should ponder. I fear I must force my mind to put my point in place. I am to be married. Such a thought I only gave to few men, but he is good and kind. _

_Do not fear for me, old friend…. I feel happiness will be given to us both. Trust me in that perhaps this is best. In this I shall remain content and hold no promises to you or anyone else. Oh, I sound horrid, this event did come unexpectedly. _

_I have a plan, a strange and terrible one, but it shall hold promising results if it goes accordingly. Charles is staying in a home in Gilford and I only found his whereabouts thanks to Dormouse. He escaped Wonderland, he told me of the horrible things that have happened_**. "**_ The Queens have fallen and the world is stuck in anarchy, but he says the King of Hearts has risen and brought his Brothers to rule the two kingdoms…__._

_No, it's too much to speak of now, but please will you explain everything when we meet? All Hope and Trust with you, Mr. Hatter._

_Alice._

I tossed the second letter into the passenger seat and stared out the windshield. I counted 15 letters, but the last three were damaged. Thanks to some Detective work {Thank You Google}, I found out that apparently the letters were not in order.

The first letter had apparently been written when she was 47 and the second when she was around 28. So now, all I that I know is that all these letters were written over a long period of time, up to 20 years, but what could compel her to write such letters? She either was really crazy or…well, the second option was a little bizarre even for my taste.

Moors University was luckily a few miles away from my houses and my parents wouldn't suspect anything. Professor Albert Farren, I heard, was freaking brilliant with restoring damaged historic artifacts, so a bunch of silly letters should be easy for him to fix up. I jumped out of the old blue Ford truck that Hannah let me borrow and walked into the Cordell Building. The long hallway stretched out, like in the ones you see in horror movies.

The room numbers passed until my eyes locked on the fourth door down, **332. **I knocked ever so lightly and a voice called out from the inside. "My Office hours are from 3:00 to 4:00—"

Turning the brass knob, I stuck my head in before he could brush me off completely. The office was in chaos that I never would have expected from a professor, but he sat in the middle behind his desk, watching a little TV set on top of a stack of textbooks.

Gazing up at my face through rectangular glasses, he clamored from his spot and stood over his desk trying to cover his mess. "Miss, did you not hear—" I quickly stepped in and closed the door.

"Please, Mr. Farren. I'm not a student here." He paused in trying to hide the mess and stepped over the stacks over clutter.

"I'm sure you have some very important point to make, but student or not, you can contact me from 3 to 4." He smiled as if talking to a child.

My eyes went down to my jacket where the letters were hidden in an envelope.

"Look, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for something important. My name is Natalie Jones and um, I think I have something that might interest you."

His eyebrows raised and he stared me down curiously. "Miss Jones, are you aware of what I teach?"

I nodded and pulled the envelope out, holding it out to him. "Yes, which is why I came to you. What I have—is something that—well all I have to say is it's old and damaged, but if the wrong people found out about it…."

It was possibly the only time I felt I had to trust someone. I kept holding out the envelope and waited for his reaction.

His eyebrows knitted together as he took it from me. Biting my lip, I waited and watched his expression.

With a careful hand, he pulled it open and focused so intently on the contents that he didn't even seem to blink.

He pulled the letters out slowly and gasped when he got to the damaged ones.

"It's impossible," he mumbled, laying them out on top of the other papers on his desk. He leaned over them tensely.

"How-how did you come across these?" he said, not looking at me.

"I came across them, but if you can fix those three so they're readable…I'll—alright, here's the deal. You can't have them, you can't tell anyone you have them AND if you do tell anyone, I'll burn the rest of the letters," I said, a strange over-protective feeling washing over me.

My words seemed to stick to him, but a smile formed on his face. "I suppose I have no choice in the matter."

I nodded sternly, but Icouldn't help smile at my thoughts. This was the first time I had ever felt in control of a situation and for some reason it lead me to think that my finding these letter weren't some coincidence.

_**The young man stared into the silver-rimmed looking glass at the girl. Master Honorable said to watch her, Master Honorable said never to leave her alone, Master—**_

_**The wooden door behind him creaked open, but his eyes were glued to the mirror.**_

"_**Pat, how is she?"**_

_**A man with shoulder-length white hair wobbled up next to Pat and stuck his pale pink nose in the air.**_

"_**Oh Master Honorable, she is trying to read Mythical Alice's letters, but it seems Mythical Alice is not of Past—"**_

_**The man raised his arm, matted with white patches of fur, and mauled the boy's face with sharp nails. **_

_**The boy fell quickly and without a sound of pain, starting to twitch in a pool of pale blood.**_

"_**If you plan to live under my rule then you must never utter that thought of yours. Alice is not real…. Keep a eye on the girl, and you know what to do if she discovers too much."**_

_**Pat nodded and the skin on his face stretched to cover the wound. He stood and continued to watch.**_

"_**Yes, Master Honorable."**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**{Reviews equal Love! Thanks to everyone especially my Beta Reader. I have the team together and now…now is the hard part}**_

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_I believe I can not put this into words but the will of having to admit it…_ _The Duchess is dead. Mr. Dodgson sent me an urgent letter saying that she appeared on his doorstep with a letter stitched into her skin._

_Have you ever heard of anything so macabre? That, unfortunately, is not the strangest thing to happen. The Duchess's face was not one to forget in its crude shape, but the women who appeared to Charles were not the same person we both had met._

_ Her face was not scarred, wrinkled, or bent. It was flawless, an image of pure beauty; her golden hair and blue eyes seemed only to glow when in someone's presence. He even took a picture which I have enclosed to you. Such eyes she had, Mr. Hatter. The letter is the one thing I have not mentioned, but you must understand that it is hard to even imagine anything that has happened._

_ Speaking of all this has weakened my state and I dare not threaten my health. Something is happening, but to question it is beyond me. Give me strength, Hatter, give me strength._

_Your Friend, Alice_

The mall's atmosphere was heavy with the sound of people snacking in the Food Court and children attacking each other in the Railroad playpen. Sam and I nestled in our favorite spot under the water fountain, beside the coffee shop and far away from the rest of the bustle.

In his fingers, Sam held the third letter and the old photograph. I couldn't bring myself to look at it again. It was at least 80 or 90 years old, its edges worn and bent. The picture was just a rough outline of an older women whose body was young, but her face was beaten and obviously older. Wrinkles and dark bruises surrounding her face.

What still got me was that it was real. This photo couldn't possibly be altered or just made up for a hoax… It was real beyond a possibility of a doubt. Then again, I couldn't help thinking that it _might_ not be real. How convenient for an 18-year old (supposedly young and naïve) to find these mindboggling letters hidden away in Alice's supposed desk. It seemed all too planned out, too easy…

"So do you think it's real?" I asked, nibbling on my thumb nail. His pale green eyes scanned over the letter, then the photograph, then scanned them again. The tense silence between us was painful. "Sam!" I yelled, punching his shoulder to get his attention. His eyes struggled to stare up, but his hand instinctively went to his shoulder. "Hey!"

"What do you think?" I asked, a bit more soothing. He sighed and shuffled the paper before setting it down on the black stone tabletop.

"I don't know. I'm not exactly an expert in this stuff…but this is pretty damn freaky, Pop."

I shook my head and tapped my finger on the letter. "You got to stop calling me that. We can't have Snap, Crackle, Pop without Snap." He shrugged and took a sip from his Dr. Pepper.

"She moved, she didn't die." Might as well have, I thought rudely. "Look, do have any insight in this, Sam? I mean I've been driving myself crazy with this," I said, breaking off a piece of a giant cookie. Taking a deep breath, he looked back over at the letter.

"It's real. I am 90 percent positive, freakers may create this stuff for some stupid publicity stunt…but it's you. Not some rich or famous person, so maybe you're just really lucky."

He tried smiling, but his strange sharp teeth just made me think back to that stupid Cheshire Cat. "How many are there, exactly?" he asked, leaning back in the five-dollar chair. "I counted 15, but some are screwed up and others I haven't even bothered to read yet." **Twinkle Twinkle little bat…** "How many have you read?" he asked curiously.

"Three…including that one. They just keep getting weirder," I said, shuddering at the thought of the picture again. His eyebrows knitted together and he sat his elbows on the table.

"What did the other ones say?" he asked.

I tried to shadow my face to hide my frustration. "Sam, promise me now that you won't tell anyone—" I raised my face to aim my most evil glare at his face, trying to be imitating. "And I do mean _anyone_."

Holding out his hands, he shook his head. "Alright, alright! I get the hint." I leaned near him to break the awkward silence that had settled between us. As if anyone would listen in.

"The first one talked about the first time Alice went to Wonderland, and the second was about the Dormouse escaping and telling Alice about the anarchy and crap happening. Then again, that was almost 100 years ago…and of course this letter."

We both gazed at the letter with certain wariness. An itching feeling of unease went up my back. Now that another human being, other than the professor, had seen the letters…they became real. The Letters no longer seemed to be a mind game; they were starting to become a living horror.

Sam put a reassuring hand on my shoulder; apparently, he had noticed my eyes. "Hey, Nat, you can leave these letters. Hell, burn them, just let yourself rest easy," Sam said, nudging me with a soft chuckle.

With a sad smile, I looked back up to him and ruffled his shaggy hair. "I'm too curious to let them go to waste. Plus…I need a partner in crime. Will you offer yourself up?" I smiled and pressed my hands together, thinking it a small, selfish prayer.

Rolling up the sleeves of his green plaid shirt, he paused, thinking it over. My inner voice was screaming for help; these strange letters were proving to be very overwhelming. Doing it with only the Professor made me feel so small. My eyes looked carefully into his and I yelled in my mind. "Please Sam, Please!"

Running a hand through his hair, he cocked his head at me. "Sure, Pop. Can't have you running off to adventure without me." He grabbed me by the neck and tussled my hair with a bellowing laugh. I tried to unwrap myself from his arms, but I couldn't help but laugh with him as my hair was violated.

"Crackle!" I yelled, using my free hand to tickle him. We both tried to ignore the mall rats staring at us and enjoy ourselves, but as I tried to escape my eyes caught the mirror on a booth a few feet away. Instead of my reflection staring back at me, a man with tiny pin point eyes was staring back. His face was long and pointed and he looked familiar, in a way. He was watching, watching everything, and then our eyes met. I froze in Sam's arms and just stared back, my body paralyzed by a paranoid fear. His head raised and then all I saw was his smile, his sharpened teeth glinting happily.

"Hello Natalie," his mouth read, and in my head I heard his faintest whisper.


	4. Chapter 4

**_{Thanks guys for your patience. School is cruical at the moment and my Beta is having the same problem, but that won't stop this story. I'm starting to like it too much! :D }_**

_Dear Hatter,_

_They are coming for me, I am sure of it. The mirrors, I cannot trust them anymore. All of those nasty creatures keep trying to come through and I can barely stand in a room without having them surrounding me. Help me, please just come to my aid. I cannot handle this alone, my sisters how lost all faith in me and my word._

_I feel so weak and the concept of time and will is lost to my knowledge. Sitting at this desk and waiting like a coward in this empty room, what am I to expect at all cost for hope of another? Hatter, what I would pursue for ourselves to be with one another just so our last moment will not be forgotten. The madness is spreading like a disease through my soul, madness is spreading…_

_Alice_

The Professor and Sam settled in the dead calm of the college library, finishing off the fourth letter. Professor Farren cleaned the lens of his glasses with his oxford shirt tail, his eyes looking down. "After restoring this letter and reading it, I felt the need to call you as soon as possible, Miss Jones." My fingers pushed the letter lightly to the middle of the floor as if it was laced with poison.

Sam looked from the Professor to me. "Ah, come on—" he scoffed, throwing the letter up into the air. "She can't be serious… Things just don't come out of mirrors. She's fu—…" I rolled my eyes, grabbing the letter in the air.

"Come on, Sam—" The paper burned my skin as I grabbed onto it. "Dammit!" I yelled, jerking back to the pain swelling in the tips of my fingers. The shout echoed in the library when I squeezed my fingers to stop the pain.

The Professor leaned back in his chair and stared at us over his glasses. Pushing his chair back, Sam walked over and took my hand, looking over my fingers. "Jesus, you okay?" he asked. The tips were swelling in his touch, but I pulled back from him and all I could bring myself to do was look at the letter.

All of this just seemed so surreal, I thought, my eyes cast down to the floor. Sam rested his elbow on the back of the chair and kept glancing to the Professor. The burning sensation was cooling down, but the surprise was still hanging in the air. Between the three of us, nothing much was said. Closing my eyes, I tried to find some sort of peace without seeing that same face in the mirror, but the same picture came popping up.

The buggy eyes never seemed to blink; they kept starring and never stopped.

"Miss Jones," a voice called out. My eyes opened to see the Professor standing and holding onto the letter. He was re-reading it once again with his glasses on the tip of his nose. "It's possible Mrs. Liddell was experiencing a psychological disorder causing her to see things—it would explain the nature of these letters."

I sighed, feeling nothing but frustration…but the fear was appearing. It happened years ago, but when my mother first read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to me, all I could remember was having nightmares. Long, sleepless nights thinking that a little girl would come through my mirror and smother me in my sleep. I found myself chuckling softly and looking from the Professor to Sam.

"When Sam and I were at the mall—I uh, I saw something."

I could feel their eyes on me, but I ignored them and forced myself to keep speaking. "It was this...human thing, it was inside the mirror. It even said my name…I think, I don't really know anymore."

Sam started to tap his foot nervously against the wooden floors, making an annoying sound that was starting to get to me. "So you just forgot to mention this to me?" he asked, a slight sting to his voice. Sam was the last person to talk about such a thing. He was obviously onto bigger things than helping some friend with her paranoid fantasy. The Professor leaned against the wooden table in some sincere thought, but how badly I wanted to slap him out of it.

You can't exactly admit to such a delusion, especially one that you believe in. "Whatever these things are. They come from mirrors." I turned from Sam and leaned over the table to the Professor. "And that means they can get anyone. Everyone we know is a victims. Have you heard of anything like this?" I asked, trying not to twitch or fidget, no sign of weakness. He took his glasses off, turning his gaze away from mine.

"I have."

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't bring myself to look away.

"And? Come on old man, don't leave us such suspense," Sam spit out, pushing the chair down. The threat of being vulnerable was apparently starting a fire under him and he wasn't willing to let that feeling go. Setting his glasses on the table, the Professor sighed. The dark shadows under his eyes were starting to grow and his age showed in his features.

"When I was a freshman in college, decades ago, I knew a fella in my class who was a fan of spook stories. Claimed he wanted to be a parapsychologist. Well, one night when I got a bottle of bourbon, he started to tell me this story—" He paused, creating this strange atmosphere. Sam and I were quiet and managed to sit still and listen.

"A brother and sister named Richard and Valerie were very, very close. Their bond was more than blood and they proved it, to themselves and others. One day, May 23, 1946, they were playing in their attic. Dust and spider webs didn't convince them to stay away; oh no, it fired their imagination. Richard was tired of jump rope and Valerie of her dolls, and they discussed a plan. A little game to fuel their curiosity. For years, the attic contained mirrors, all covered with fabric. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes; the game was to collect the sheets covering the mirrors and whoever had the most when all were uncovered, wins."

The painful silence held between the group, and I could tell something of terrible proportions was about to happen…oh, something dreadful.

"The game started and the two were off. The sound of the sheets being thrown off was all anyone would hear, standing in that large space. Reflections of the children came in all directions with the mirrors appearing, one by one. Soon enough, every single mirror was shining off the sunlight. Richard walked to the middle of the clearing and threw down the sheets. '_Come on, Val! Come out and admit I won!_' Richard stood with the sheets at his feet.

"The poor little boy turned in time to see his sister's hand flailing, sticking out of the mirror. He only remembered one detail of that night: His sister screaming while a…_thing_ dragged her into the mirror's reflection."

Taking a shaky breath, I managed to ask, "What took her?"

Shaking his head, the Professor's eye twitched and he looked into my eyes. "A Rabbit"

**Oh dear, What is my Heroine to do? What of these things in mirrors? Oh and what a strange tale indeed...curiouser and curiouser....**


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_The matter is settled. I have sent word to the others and Lorie has prepared the coach._

_Charles told me he wrote down his confession in his diary and that it should please me of his action._

_How dare he, for years he publish my life in his tales and then expect me to step up and claim it? Now he has taken another route and dares to tell all of how his story is true._

_The truth will harm lots of innocent people; other children and adults alike will go looking for Wonderland and once they find it—the greatest plague shall fall upon this place._

_Reality, I believe the Caterpillar called it. Soon, I shall ride to his residence and rip his confession to pieces. Then the world shall live in peace._

_Your hopeful Savior,_

_Alice_

The tree branches were broken, pointing like arrows down the beaten path. Even though the sky was dark and overshadowed, the ground and trees were illuminated. The soft glow was pulsing, buzzing with life. _Alive, it's all alive._

I could feel myself walking, my black strapped shoes crunching the twigs below. My brain couldn't control my actions, strings were attached to my arms and legs and my head…. I wanted to run.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My heart…what's wrong with my heart? Someone's soft voice was coming from afar and the puppeteer wanted to listen.

Can you walk a little faster? Can you bear to lend an ear?

Meet us, join us, follow us, and don't you forget.

Never mind your troubles and come closer, be a dear.

I am just a friend, you haven't met yet.

My body was trembling, the path was ending and the voice was closer.

Don't put up a fist and turn your back.

Your trip here has been planned.

Come, little girl, don't tick and tack;

Welcome to our world of Wonderland

The strings stopped pulling and my eyes gazed out in front of me. The glow turned brighter and the garden woke up. The rose bushes bloomed full white roses and vines crawled out, grasping the ground; ivy twisted itself around the bushes and somehow attached itself like a makeshift quilt, creating shelter over a piece of the ground.

"_Let me go_!"I yelled, my jaw moving with my mouth. A deep chuckle came above me and a sharp crack was heard. My arms became limp and so did my legs, toppling me over. Landing hard on my knees, I grabbed onto the green fabric grass and looked up.

The glow was starting to fade out, except on the ground protected by the vines. My nails dug into the ground, protecting me from the immediate horror that was hanging in the air. Air was stinging my eyes and the cold was just the beginning.

A hand reached out of the ground, pushing its way up. With a sharp turn, I flipped on my back and paused, waiting for the thing to make its move.

The human, with its mangled form, climbed out and stood before me. His tall lanky figure seemed to extend to the sky and, towering over me, he smiled.

He bowed and turned his narrowed black eyes to mine. "How there, will you join us now?"

"NO!"

The sheets were twisted in my legs and the suffocation was the fault of the bedspread wrapped around and around me. The feeling of perspiration was all over and the fear was still haunting.

Cat eyes were all I could imagine, pale blue with cat slits; it, of course, was something from my nightmares.

My bedroom light flipped on and my mom came crashing in with a baseball bat in her hand.

"Mom?" I yelled, wiggling out of the covers' grasp.

Her eyes looked around widely and when my room passed her safety inspection, she laid the bat down.

"Nattles, you okay?" she asked, her hand tightening the collar of her fuzzy rose-colored bathrobe.

Taking a few steady breaths, I managed to nod and lay my head down.

"Sweetie, you can't keep having these nightmares." She sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a few dark curls from my face.

"Oh mother, if only you knew," I thought, closing my eyes. The images the nightmares left me with were starting to effect me. I no longer knew the difference between truth and a nightmare.

"I know, I just need to stop eating chocolate before bed." I smiled weakly, opening my eyes to give her some reassurance for sleep.

She laughed softly and started to pet my head, the only source of comfort she knew that worked. An abnormal sense of peace finally loomed over and I rested my head against the damp pillow.

"Sleep well, sweetie. Don't let the cats bite."

My eyes opened at her words and I looked over my shoulder to see her stand.

"What did you say?" I asked, fear accidentally coming into my voice.

She rubbed her eyes and smiled shyly.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite, silly. You just need sleep. Good night."


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_How news be known! For my dear sister __Edith __is to be married to a Harcourt, with connections to the 12__th__ Earl of __Yorkshire. __I cannot even contain my joy for her, she has deserved a husband since our old days of play weddings in the garden. I, of course, was such a dreary partner. _

_I hold fast to those days as a child, before the trip…how you make me forget them. Not that I blame you for my own actions, or Charles for that matter, but you bring me back to a place that is now a ruined fantasy… I miss you and the place that I held so dear to my heart as a child, no matter how mad._

_Edith's matrimony will give reason to send my worries away. Her dear husband shall whisk her away to St. David's in Wales and in her belongings, I will place my letters to you and the final trace of Wonderland._

_I keep telling myself that this will be the last letter, a final letter to write away my maddening thoughts, my forgotten memories, and of course, last words that I never did say._

_Till then, your forgotten Queen,_

_Alice_

Three little post it notes were stuck to the letter with cartoon arrows pointing at certain phrases. Natalie twirled an old ballpoint in her fingers, rereading the letter. The next step, other than trying to avoid sleeping and mirrors, to find out what the hell was going on.

Her laptop's screen was glowing with Google search engine, the cursor blinking. St. David's, Wales. My finger hesitated against the left mouse key**.** I wasn't sure what I wanted to know about this place or if I wanted to go in further into this goose chase. Leaning back in the chair, I continued to stare to focus my mind.

The night before, I had gone on an information vendetta. Searching every living relative of the Liddell name around the world, preferably America, but no such luck. Though I found one lead—one small lead, thanks to Sam. Violet Liddell was the youngest daughter of the Liddell's and possibly the most happy, from most accounts, but from what Sam collected… It was all a bit morbid.

"Thank god, I don't have siblings."

In 1922, when Violet turned 46, she had her first and only child, Anna, who changed her name after her very famous aunt Alice died from Liddell to Birch. Taking a shaky breath, I typed in her name, my jittery fingers skipping a few letters. I clicked Search.

She must be ancient by now, but lifespans had increased over the years. People had taught their bodies to live to their hundreds. Doing lousy arithmetic in my head, I figured the daughter would be around…88 years old. Around that, anyway…not bad of an age, but Jesus, the chances she was still alive. I had no chance… My thoughts were cut off by my door opening. With Batman-worthy reflex, I shut my laptop and looked over my shoulder to see mom with her usual worried face.

"Natalie, you okay?"

I slowly nodded, letting a smile grow on my face. "Of course, just a bit tired from…stuff." I never did like lying and she didn't deserve it. It could be worse, much, much worse.

Crossing her arms, she straightened her back, letting her determined parental pose show. "You've been acting kind of distant lately." So original, Mom, I thought, letting my fingers busy themselves with twisting the drawstring from my sweatpants.

"I know you're not an expert, but teenagers don't like to be social at home." My eyes traveled down; I didn't want my thoughts to dwell on the mirrors creatures. The were always in my mind, they were watching us…right now. Now they know I spend my time at home…they could know everything.My mom's nose twitched, a trait she's had since she watched Bewitched when she was a child. These talks happened whenever she felt her parental rights were being violated…usually by Sam coming over too often.

A couple of months ago, Sam and I had become very close when his girlfriend cheated on him with his sister (a bit awkward). He started to come over every Friday and stay till Sunday, that left my parents glowering in the living room. "I would for once like to you see you at home before I leave for work—" Mom's eyes glistened a bit as she spoke.

She cried at everything: car commercials, songs on the radio, and of course cats and dogs playing together on lawns. "Alright Mom. See you in the morn—" The conversation was leading to either a horrible argument involving crying, or me wanting to tell her everything. My words were interrupted by a knock on the door and my eyes darted over to an all too familiar face.

"Oh—hello, Sam."

The kind greeting from my Mother left Sam in his usual scuffled manner. "Um, hi." Walking over to my mom, I gave her a reassuring hug. Her worries would grow…but not tonight. With a small squeeze, I let go and smiled.

"I'll leave the door open, promise. I love you."

She smiled and patted my shoulder. "I love you too, Nat." It was little motions of affection like that that I never seemed to appreciate, but I knew if I didn't start now, maybe I would never remember them. She left the two of us in a silence while we both thought the same thing: "Do you think they'll go after her?"

I couldn't even bear to look at him, knowing the right answer. There were a number of things to fear in the modern context: the mob, police, government, and of course other things…but to be afraid of nightmares coming after your family, that wasn't right.

"Can we not, Sam?" I said lightly and walked over to the bed. His fingers nervously picked at his sleeve as he followed to my side.

"You won't believe what I got you…" A chilling feeling went down my back. Gifts at the moments weren't really gifts; they were like promises that didn't mean anything. Curling up against the pillows, I looked up at him, not expecting to build up the tension in the room.

His eyes softened while his fingers pulled out a thin slip of paper from his jacket. A small spur of excitement was brewing in him when my fingers instantly reached out for the paper. "Trust me?" he murmured, holding them from my grasp. My own excitement was stifling and it made me jump to grab the little thing. Finally taking it, I quickly read over the small print. "A ticket—" he started to say, studying my face and waiting for me to react. I sucked in a final breath, finally realizing all the words.

"To London…"

I looked up, feeling a rush of emotions strangling me. Tears started to peel out of my eyes, but I shook them away and tried to think clearly.

My arms wrapped around his neck and all I could do was hold him. "Sam, I don't know what to say!"

Hesitating, he hugged back, but his mouth leaned close to my ear. "You need to talk to that woman. She's a Liddell descendent and—"

Poor Sam, he had just as much to lose. "I know, Sammy. I'll go tomorrow."

The man leaned against a brass sign post and looked into the puddle's reflection. "Stupid girl," he murmured, staring at the poor thing fading back into the blue. His long boney fingers folded his glasses into his pocket and he stared into the distance of pale fog. "If she goes there, the White Rabbit and the other Rouges will open up every damn hole and looking glass in all of Reality. If information is all she wants, then it is all she'll get." His mumblings were stopped by a deep, hacking cough.

Shifting a golden eye to his right, he caught sight of a short man appearing out of the fog. The man's hair was completely gone and all that was left of his body was a round, fat belly. "Gryphon, dear friend." The poor man's eyes were swept with tears, large ones rolling down his face. "They're gone….all the bottles, broken! We'll go back. I can't go back."

"Shush, Turtle, mind not. We have to go somewhere else is all."


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_I must come to your shores as hastily as I can. Affairs of mounting importance have come over me like a wave of doubt. Prince Leopold and I have denied such allegations of a courtship, leaving me in complete turmoil, though my mother claims to suffer more. Our old friendship leaves me comfort in short sleepless nights. All that is left of my memory and conscience is of Charles, Wonderland, and its residents. I dare not question what else happened to me those weeks I spent wandering with Cheshire Puss at my side._

_Thought the thought is odd to say, but madness is quite a theory. Humans here waste their time fighting such fits to be proper and polite, but madness, if embraced, is a relief breathed out in common ecstasy. I wanted to state my madness, to scream it as it should be, but they refused. What people would say—my sisters, dear as they are, wept knowing I would be sent away. My name would be harmed and nothing would be the same. _

_A little over ten years ago was when we all first fell into that damned hole. When the others left to find their way up, and Charles and I surged on, down the path. That memory is still in my mind. Where I looked up at him with fear and asked where we were… "Wonderland, Alice… We're in a Wonderland."_

_Alice._

I quickly folded the letter and slid it into my old green jacket before the maid could come back. Anna Birch, Violet's daughter… Alice's Niece was the one who had been sold the desk. A little cross-checking of email addresses and names on the plane over here, and it all made sense. One of the last living Liddells, and by simple unnerving chance…she was the one who had started this crazy-ass mystery.

The airplane had touched down last night and it took a good six and a half hours to drive down here. Sleep was clawing at me, but the thought of the nightmarish Cheshire Cat smiling at me was a enough for me to stay wide-eyed in conversation with this Anna woman. I would find out once and for all if these letters were real, and I would find out today.

The house is something you would see in some fairy tale. High ceilings with crystal chandeliers, windows that are wall length, chairs made from engraved wood, and, of course, shelves, window sills, and trunks filled with history. Moving side to side in my chair, I looked at the certain pieces in the room that stuck out. One was a colorful copy of Alice's Adventures Underground; another was a large oak grandfather clock, and something red and hidden was behind a granite fireplace.

This was not a good idea, but damn curiosity; my conscience shrugged off the worry and I walked steadily over to the fireplace. The red color belonged to a long red silk fabric draped over something, concealing something. My hand tugged until it fell to the ground. Standing completely still, I tried to convince myself that it wasn't real.

It was a shrine to Alice…Alice Liddell and her story underground. Pictures were tacked up to a board, mostly of her as a child with her sisters. The center photograph was positively chilling in the way that seemed so innocent. Alice sat in Charles Dodgson's lap holding onto a doll…a stuffed white rabbit. Beneath the pictures in a glass case stood a handful of odd items. A small gold box, engraved with Victorian artwork; a rusted and broken pocket watch; a red silk glove; a copy of Alice's Adventures Underground, ripped at the edges.

"What are you doing."

I spun around to see the maid holding onto Miss Birch's arm; Miss Birch was wearing a very grim frown, very grim indeed. What could I possibly say to make what I had done sound unintended? I could tell a lie which would only end in her hating me…more than she did now, anyway.

"I'm sorry—" Honest. My eyes looked directly into hers, giving her my full innocent intention. "I was curious."

Her small gray eyes looked back and without saying a word, she pardoned the maid with a wave of her hand. In all honesty, it was such a thing to see; maids were something you saw in books. A female whose full purpose was completing tasks set by a homeowner. Completely strange, you see.

"Your name—"

"My name? Oh, it's Natalie… Natalie Jones."

She nodded and motioned at me to sit near her. Without looking at her, I swiftly went to one of her velvet chairs and sat, betraying my instincts to run out the door. "Miss Jones, what is your business with me?"

Other than that you're the grand heir to a big-ass mystery with, so far, no answers? "About a month ago, you sold an antique desk online to the highest bidder." I intertwined my fingers to distract my nerves. "I was the one who bought it, and—" My pauses, I could tell, were becoming a annoyance to her, but I couldn't help it. I had to choose my words carefully; a warning was going off in my head. "—Why, Miss Birch, did you sell it?"

She straighten her posture and looked past me, sorrow growing on her face. "An old widow such as myself shouldn't hold onto silly furniture. Was the desk not to your liking?"

Shaking my head, I looked at her with a understanding smile. "It's beautiful—"

"Then why, Miss Jones, did you travel overseas to speak to me about it?"

Oh, shit.

"Well, I mean…it's a great desk, but I found something that you forgot in the drawer—" I reached into the hand-sewn pocket and pulled out the letter I had been reading previously.

A frail gasp fell from her lips, her eyes quickly darting away as she recognized the paper. I held it out, too afraid to say anything else. With an odd amount of strength, she slapped the letter to the floor.

"Do not bring that into this house. Those bloody letters ruined lives, Miss Jones. I wish for you to burn them and never speak of them again. "


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_Such simple things I hold on to my waning years, little objects that to others would remain mysterious yet useless. I hold onto them with withered hands and fight the subtle urge of throwing them into the very same hole that we both know so well. Well positivity, I'm sure you'd be saying aloud, I'd never be able to find it again and if you were to say that merely a week ago you would be correct, but tis you are not. Violet and I were strolling in Oxford once again, clinging to the rare fragments of what I remember as pleasant if not complicated childhood. We reached the forest; one that felt so close yet years ago was miles away from Christ Church. You should remember it fondly, my old friend, it ruined all that was good and created such chaos. _

_ I am coming back to you, You Mad Hatter…I am coming because I discovered the secret. Only time will tell._

_Alice_.

"You do realize I have a great chance of becoming an alcoholic now" Natalie whispered into the phone looking up at the bitter bartender whose name escaped her. The Red Lion pub has an inviting atmosphere compared the crapped quarters which a one star inn hails. She looked up at the man who had been waiting impatiently for over ten minutes for her drink order.

"Natalie I swear to God. You couldn't even handle Jell-O shots at my brother's wedding. Why are you drinking anyway? Don't you have something to do with what's her name?" Sam mumbled in a groggy fashion.

"Violet Birch is an old woman with issues that seem to date back to ole great aunt Alice—"She paused and realized what she might say may actually be secret. She covered the bottom of her phone and looked above at the menu. With a gracious smile of some saint, she batted her eyelashes at the man. "Can I have something—not fruity" He rolled his eyes and started work on a drink she was most likely going to throw up in the next hour.

"Nat…It is 4:30 in the morning. Can we speed this up so I can wake up at a decent hour?"

"Right so anyway um. So she told me the old English equivalent of fuck off. Though before she did technically throw me out of her house, I managed to discover a bit of a shrine to Alice in Wonderland."

She heard the shuffle of Sam's head rising from the pillow. When he spoke once more, she could practically hear him thinking with his lawyer tone. "What was in the shrine? Do you think it will help find out what is going on?"

The bartender swiftly placed the drink in front of her and dashed off to top off some other men with their beers. Slowly shaking the glass, she tried to memorize the contents of the shrine. "A pretty glove, some old 1800's artwork, a copy of Alice in Wonderland, some small gold box, and this broken pocket watch. It all mostly seemed like discarded junk…" Great just another dead end to this story she thought watching the ice melt in the dark brown liquid. Apparently Sam could hear the doubtful thoughts. "Wait just think about this shrine. Was anything in there ever mentioned in the letters?" She closed her eyes seeing the objects behind her eyelids and focused on each item. Then something clicked in her mind. "Sam, I can't remember, but were there any pocket watches in Alice in Wonderland?"

Even while he said, she remembered the illustration in her mind. The little white rabbit in his wee waist coat and holding his pocket watch…she could hear his voice far away. I'm late I'm late for a very important date. "Hey Sammy, in the newest letter Alice says she discovered the secret and only time will tell. I mean I thought she meant the saying, but…what if it is more than that? What if that broken pocket watch actually means something?"

He chuckled and used his skeptical voice, "Nat that is quite the stretch isn't it?"

She took one look at the drink and downed it in one gulp. During a coughing spasm, she closed the phone. After she finally found her voice, though horse, she called over the bartender. "What are the breaking and entering laws around here" She asked determined.

(Sorry for the recent hiatus. My muse is gone and so it my editor. So if this is complete shit just let me know and I will attempt to fix everything. Tell me what you guys think because what is about to happen…well the shit will hit the fan.)


	9. Chapter 9

Her fingers curled around the bottom of window and pushed it up as silently as possible. With a final creak, she crawled through the gap even though she knew her face would be greeting the floor. Slipping through the small space wasn't a problem, the problem was falling on her arm and feeling the sharp pain quickly spread through her whole upper body. "That will leave a bruise tomorrow morning" she thought standing up with shaky ankles. She looked around to notice the effect of nighttime on the sleepy drawing room. The extravagance was replaced by a Gothic creeping fear. Shadows touched every object and moved without warning with a passing cloud that she couldn't control.

Her eyes traveled back to the red shrouded shine. It seemed to glow in the shadows and like any beacon it drew her closer to it. The shroud fell to the floor and her fingers carefully opened the two glass doors. All the items were still in their place but the pocket watch, with its face cracked down the middle, was now open when before it was closed. She grabbed it to take a closer look and inscribed inside were the words:

_Only time will tell._

"Gotcha" she thought with a smile before she slipped the watch into her pocket. Distantly the sound of footsteps were heard, loud and rapid. She just looked back to the window and dashed. With wiggling skill, she coaxed herself onto the ground when she heard the light turn on and a loud gasp.

As she ran through the grounds she heard the maid screaming, "Robbery! There has been a robbery!"

Blind without guidance she felt the smooth grass turn to tree knots and leaves, now covering the ground. Rushing past tall overreaching trees, her foot caught on an outstretched root. Her face met the ground; she tasted dense soil.

"Of course," she grumbled into the soft earth. Turning over on her back she reached for her cellphone and the pocket watch to make sure both were unharmed. With the phone's back-light she inspected the glass face only to find that half of the glass had completely cracked. She stood up, while still inspecting the watch further something odd happened. The longest black hand was inching to the left without anything manipulating it.

She followed it's direction to see just a few trees, but past that was darkness, not even moonlight. When she turned left, the two hands started to move in opposite direction in sync, when one crossed over the other the other did the same. Her foot took another step and the two hands were going faster and faster until it looked almost like a compass.

Each step proceeded the needles pointing to a direct location and whenever she stepped away from it's destination, the two hands would lead her back to where she was supposed to be. For what seemed like hours, Natalie stopped noticing the watches strange behavior. The two hands were slowly moving in a circle until both landed on 12.

"What is wrong with you now," she whispered in the dark. Her eyes squinted at the face when she heard leaves rustling behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention sensing someone.

Turning her head slowly, she was met with two glowing eyes. The eyes looked like cats, with slit black pupils wrapped in a dark powdered blue. Her breath caught in her throat and her body froze against the tall body.

"Don't move an inch" it hissed with a drawling British accent. She took a step backward against her mind's orders and felt the heel of her right foot land into nothingness. Soon her body was falling backwards into a massive hole that wasn't there before.

The eyes grew smaller as the wind pushed her down and all she heard before she passed out was a loud shrilling no.

(_I am back my pretties and lovelies and nothing is going to stop the oncoming storm known as Wonderland. A big shout out and incrediable thank you to my new beta/best friend, Korry also known as xXflowersbloomforusXx. Also hope you guys enjoy this tease because it is about to get real intense_.)


	10. Chapter 10

_Dear Mr. Hatter,_

_It shan't be long now my dear fellow. I write this under a burning lamp and a dim sky, all signs that the lines are close. Dodgson provided me with ink to write letters on my trek though whom he thought I would send them to deludes me. I write to you and solely you…should this surprise you? Should this eternal question haunt memories that you have most likely forgotten? Yes, your mind never was at a tip top shape._

_People, by people I mean Dodgson, question my loyalty to you. "A child's fancies are not to be toyed with by the likes of a mad man." How unaware he is of questioning himself in my presence. I, now a woman, am condemned to be a child in the worlds eye by a man who sees me as nothing else. Perhaps your madness shall set me free._

_Alice_

Natalie's eyes fluttered against the whips of fog. Her cheek stuck to the cold spotted tile as she attempted to lift her head. Oh god that smell she thought her nostrils enflamed by the stench of decrepit must. Slowly raising up, she looked around to see a small room. It was about the size of a cubicle and fog covered the ground hiding whatever else was on floor. The walls were white with grime and dust collected in the corners except in front of her was a gaping hole in the bottom part of the wall.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching through to feel a strangely warm breeze. With another step toward the wall she felt glass break under her shoe. It was followed by a gasp of surprise from her quivering lips. Waving away the fog, she saw it was a little glass bottle with a tag saying, "drink me."

Her sudden manic laughter filled the small room. "No…no no no" A laugh caught in her throat colliding with a sob.

"No this can't be…"she couldn't say it. The "W" formed on her lips, but she couldn't say it not yet.

The sound of drums distracted her from her reeling mind.

Thump…

Thump…

Each one lingering longer than the last. It almost sounded like heavy paws against the tile. She franticly wiggled her body through the hole, ignoring the globs of spider webs her hands were landing in. The hole didn't lead out into another room, but down a skinny tunnel covered in dirt and webs. She tried to go as far from the noise as she could, but the tunnel didn't seem to end.

Her hands and knees went after the other until she felt her hand land into empty air and her body fell with it.

A scream barely made it out of her lips when her body slammed against the grass. She coughed into her had and looked around.

"Holy shit…" she whispered to herself. Beyond a thin line of trees were buildings, wooden with iron bolts that disappeared into a green fog collected up high. Some buildings closer to the trees were squat with round pipes sticking out of the roof.

She scrambled to her feet and felt her body move against the warning in her mind.

Don't you dare-

It was the curiosity, the enigmatic control that was pulling her into the heart of this industrial city. Soon as she left the trees, the scent of burnt asphalt lingered in the air with an extra smellof ass. It wasn't entirely an unpleasant smell, strong whiffs that came with breezes smelled like a garden. The chilling draft whipped her hair around her face, blowing the scent of roses under her nose.

She arrived behind the first building and hesitantly touched the untreated wood. It was a well-made building, but it seemed forgotten. Walking through the thin alley ways she stumbled over the cobblestones just to enter another ally way.

No roads, just small walk ways that lead to other small entrances. Between two buildings she peered to notice it lead out into an open space. It was filled with a white fog and whatever lied within was masked.

Squeezing herself between the rigged corners, she jerked herself out only to fall on the ground. Her temple landed on the sharp edge of the cobblestone and only for a second did her memory slip her. The throbbing pain began slowly when a trickle of blood dripped from the cut on her cheek.

She wiped it away with the back of her hand with a wince. Slowly, she stood and stumbled closer to the center.

The pull was getting stronger, it enveloped her senses. The warning bell going off in her head was squashed. A shape began to emerge in the dense fog.

Soon the fog dispersed in the center of a square and in the middle was a statue.

The matte gray stone nearly blended into the fog, but the shape forced the eyes to look. A young girl with short hair and empty eyes that commanded respect. Her dress was immortalized from childhood movies and imagination that created it from a false memory, just a short dress with an apron. In her hands she grasped a crown at her stomach.

Below the statue read in black carved letters, "Here Lies Queen Alice: Traitor, Deserter, and Destitute. Long Live Wunderland."

****Natalie fell to her knees in front of the statue, ignoring the tear falling from her eye. Tracing the broken ridges where something once was, she whispered into the silence, "What did you do Alice?"

In the thick fog, a body formed with two hands outstretched aiming for Natalie. The fingerless gloved hands were dirty with mud caked underneath the nails. Poised for attack, the man slinked slowly behind her until her grabbed clasped a hand over her mouth.

(**Oh dear whom could it be stalking in the cold?! Thanks again to my best friend for looking over it and editing it, tis the best.)**


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